Hey guys. It's been forever since I posted something on here. Actually it's been forever since I posted anything anywhere so I guess I shouldn't feel too bad for neglecting this place. Except for my SGAZ peeps. I hate the fact that I can't get together with them but work and trying to get into the field is kind of taking up a large part of my time right now. Sorry guys.
I guess the time I'm putting into getting out of the alarm room and into the field is not being wasted considering there are some guys (and one lady) out there are starting to know who I am--well--at least more than they knew me before. Which was not at all.
Trying to get hired to work the field and fight fires and treat the medical emergencies (which is freaking awesome to say the least) is hard freaking work. It doesn't help that I don't have family on the job. It's so much easier to get hired on if one's dad or mom is a Chief or Captain. Everybody knows the family at that time and for the most part they have seen said person grow up so they have an affinity for them (usually, sometimes they know the person is a douche but hire them anyways because--well--nepotism rules in the fire dept.)
But those people who have the luxury of getting in easy also sometimes don't appreciate it. They go in with attitudes because of who their family is and it shows. At the least they're treated with a mild disdain and it makes their job life a little harder. But there are those who are genuinely cool people and they know how the pecking order goes.
As for me, I'm no longer the lowly chick in the roost. Everybody at work knows I can do my job most awesomely and they give me a wide berth. Nobody breathes down my neck (save for a few people who just have their issues and treat most people like ass) and they just let me do what I do best. The new people also trust me which is awesome. I was told this by the person who trains all of the FNGs (Fucking New Guys.) She said that she appreciates me making the transition from classroom to alarm room easier for them. I know hard it is to be the new person. New people get yelled at. People jump on them for every little thing they do wrong. It's that way because we work in an environment where the mistakes are what kill people. The mistakes are what burn down houses. The mistakes are what fuck everything up and when things get fucked up the most awful shit happens. One learns to either deal with it or they let it get them down and it fucks with their head and they wash out. I don't know how many times I wanted to leave that room. Just flip everybody off, throw the entire Country A-L rack into the street and go work at the Virgin Megastore. But I didn't and I'm a stronger and better person for it.
I've developed a pretty thick emotional skin working there. I used to freak when I heard of people having a heart attack or a stroke. When people were choking I used to bug the fuck out and would become totally absorbed in the situation. That hardly happens anymore. I can give instructions on how to dislodge the food so the person can breathe and I can give CPR instructions to make sure the patient is, at the very least, workable for the fire units when they arrive at the scene. I can tell somebody who has no prior knowedge of any first techniques how to stop a cut wrist from bleeding out so they can transported to the hospital and get the proper care. I do it all without breaking a sweat or getting sucked into the drama. I can stone face like a motherfucker.
I recently had a baby who just stopped breathing. A healthy two-week old kid just stopped breathing and when her parents called they were losing it. Cyanosis had set in (she had turned blue.) Her parents weren't prepared for this. Her mom had been holding her when it happened. The kid stiffened up and then nothing. She just went limp. Her dad calls in and he's hysterical. I 'm having a hrd time getting to do anything. The mom is just screaming in the background and all the dad can say is "Help my baby." I
'm not getting through to him at all and I just finally tell him that I can't do anything for his baby because I'm not there but he can. I need him to be my hands. He takes the kid away from the mom who proceeds to start hitting him. He tells her to sit down because he's gonna save their baby. He agrees and after that I just zone.
Textbook instructions. He follows my directions perfectly. Two small breaths, thumbs in the nipple line and squeeze her thirty times. Two more breaths, thirty more compressions. We do this for about five minutes until the firefighters get on scene and take over. I get a call about an hour later and it's Captain off of the engine who went there. He called to thank me. He says when they got in the kid was pinking up. Not fully breathing on her own but her dad kept her blood and oxygen going enough that when they got her to hospital she was totally pink and slightly responsive. He said he has no idea what I said to get the guy to work his kid so well but whatever it was saved her. As soon as they took they took her from him he lost it again. I could hear it over the phone and the Captain said that they were both emotional wrecks when they were packaging her up. it doesn't always work out like that but when it does it's another reminder of why I do what I do.
I wish I could remember their address so I could send her a present on her first birthday. No name. No return address. Just a teddy bear and a card saying Happy Birthday. I hope she turns out to be a kickass person.
I guess the time I'm putting into getting out of the alarm room and into the field is not being wasted considering there are some guys (and one lady) out there are starting to know who I am--well--at least more than they knew me before. Which was not at all.
Trying to get hired to work the field and fight fires and treat the medical emergencies (which is freaking awesome to say the least) is hard freaking work. It doesn't help that I don't have family on the job. It's so much easier to get hired on if one's dad or mom is a Chief or Captain. Everybody knows the family at that time and for the most part they have seen said person grow up so they have an affinity for them (usually, sometimes they know the person is a douche but hire them anyways because--well--nepotism rules in the fire dept.)
But those people who have the luxury of getting in easy also sometimes don't appreciate it. They go in with attitudes because of who their family is and it shows. At the least they're treated with a mild disdain and it makes their job life a little harder. But there are those who are genuinely cool people and they know how the pecking order goes.
As for me, I'm no longer the lowly chick in the roost. Everybody at work knows I can do my job most awesomely and they give me a wide berth. Nobody breathes down my neck (save for a few people who just have their issues and treat most people like ass) and they just let me do what I do best. The new people also trust me which is awesome. I was told this by the person who trains all of the FNGs (Fucking New Guys.) She said that she appreciates me making the transition from classroom to alarm room easier for them. I know hard it is to be the new person. New people get yelled at. People jump on them for every little thing they do wrong. It's that way because we work in an environment where the mistakes are what kill people. The mistakes are what burn down houses. The mistakes are what fuck everything up and when things get fucked up the most awful shit happens. One learns to either deal with it or they let it get them down and it fucks with their head and they wash out. I don't know how many times I wanted to leave that room. Just flip everybody off, throw the entire Country A-L rack into the street and go work at the Virgin Megastore. But I didn't and I'm a stronger and better person for it.
I've developed a pretty thick emotional skin working there. I used to freak when I heard of people having a heart attack or a stroke. When people were choking I used to bug the fuck out and would become totally absorbed in the situation. That hardly happens anymore. I can give instructions on how to dislodge the food so the person can breathe and I can give CPR instructions to make sure the patient is, at the very least, workable for the fire units when they arrive at the scene. I can tell somebody who has no prior knowedge of any first techniques how to stop a cut wrist from bleeding out so they can transported to the hospital and get the proper care. I do it all without breaking a sweat or getting sucked into the drama. I can stone face like a motherfucker.
I recently had a baby who just stopped breathing. A healthy two-week old kid just stopped breathing and when her parents called they were losing it. Cyanosis had set in (she had turned blue.) Her parents weren't prepared for this. Her mom had been holding her when it happened. The kid stiffened up and then nothing. She just went limp. Her dad calls in and he's hysterical. I 'm having a hrd time getting to do anything. The mom is just screaming in the background and all the dad can say is "Help my baby." I
'm not getting through to him at all and I just finally tell him that I can't do anything for his baby because I'm not there but he can. I need him to be my hands. He takes the kid away from the mom who proceeds to start hitting him. He tells her to sit down because he's gonna save their baby. He agrees and after that I just zone.
Textbook instructions. He follows my directions perfectly. Two small breaths, thumbs in the nipple line and squeeze her thirty times. Two more breaths, thirty more compressions. We do this for about five minutes until the firefighters get on scene and take over. I get a call about an hour later and it's Captain off of the engine who went there. He called to thank me. He says when they got in the kid was pinking up. Not fully breathing on her own but her dad kept her blood and oxygen going enough that when they got her to hospital she was totally pink and slightly responsive. He said he has no idea what I said to get the guy to work his kid so well but whatever it was saved her. As soon as they took they took her from him he lost it again. I could hear it over the phone and the Captain said that they were both emotional wrecks when they were packaging her up. it doesn't always work out like that but when it does it's another reminder of why I do what I do.
I wish I could remember their address so I could send her a present on her first birthday. No name. No return address. Just a teddy bear and a card saying Happy Birthday. I hope she turns out to be a kickass person.
And I though it'd be another six months till I posted something new.
From "Highway 61 Revisited" by Bob Dylan
----
Oh God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son."
Abe says, "Man, you must be puttin' me on."
God say, "No." Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but
the next time you see me comin' you better run."
Well Abe says, "Where do you want this killin' done?"
God says, "Out on Highway 61."
----
How fucking heavy is that? When I first heard those lyrics they blew my mind. Still do. The song rips, of course, but the sentence "Where do you want this killin' done?" is a straight up, Olde Testament style, Say Uncle, concession. Powerful stuff. But it is also a condemnation of the condition of the States at that time. A country that would give trade-offs for the lesser good while bowing in to the greater evil.
Nobody sings good, old-fashioned songs of the fucked-up state of the world anymore. At least nobody that has the weight of a Dylan. Sure, Kris Kristofferson can rip headlines out the paper and craft a brilliant song like "In the News" and Thrice can sing about the countless unwanted and uncared for children in "Image of the Invisible", but neither of those two wield a flaming sword like Dylan did in his heyday. Which brings me to my next question: Where have the troubadors of discontent gone?
It would almost be safe to say the last song that even made a statement that resonated with that intensity is "We Are the World." Does anybody else feel like vomiting? The last song that gripped a nation was the caterwauling of a bunch of self-obsessed, image conscious pop stars from the Eighties?
I have to admit that when I was seven years old I wanted to be the sequin-gloved wonder, Michael Jackson, standing next to Diana Ross. I wanted to believe that the children are our future. I demanded that people teach them well and let them lead the way. But it's easy to be impressed when one is seven. It's easy to buy a single and be happy that five cents of my purchase goes to help feed a starving child in Africa. What is not easy is to question the affairs of a country and wonder why we, the population of that country, allow our leaders to make such bad fucking decisions.
Why were the Dixie Chicks the first mega-popular group to question our leaders? Vomitus en cavitas oris. They were also subsequently doused by the douchebaggery of their demographic but in the long run they profited. Music sales up the ass. A movie release. Cash registers went wild gobbling the funds of the people wondering "What is that crazy Natalie Maines going to say next?"
We need a new Dylan. A new Guthrie. But it has to somebody who has the appeal of Elvis Presley and the political weight of Kennedy. We don't need a savior. There are a number of unsung, everyday heroes who try to save this world everyday. What we need is somebody who can use first-rate dance skills and some fresh beats to create change.
I have it. I know who this person is that can swerve the popular attention to affairs that can change the state of a nation. Well--he can at least shift the focus onto important matters. He would be the government's worst fucking nightmare. Imagine Justin Timberlake asking our leaders "Why are you fucking the world?"
Now that would bring sexy back.
From "Highway 61 Revisited" by Bob Dylan
----
Oh God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son."
Abe says, "Man, you must be puttin' me on."
God say, "No." Abe say, "What?"
God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but
the next time you see me comin' you better run."
Well Abe says, "Where do you want this killin' done?"
God says, "Out on Highway 61."
----
How fucking heavy is that? When I first heard those lyrics they blew my mind. Still do. The song rips, of course, but the sentence "Where do you want this killin' done?" is a straight up, Olde Testament style, Say Uncle, concession. Powerful stuff. But it is also a condemnation of the condition of the States at that time. A country that would give trade-offs for the lesser good while bowing in to the greater evil.
Nobody sings good, old-fashioned songs of the fucked-up state of the world anymore. At least nobody that has the weight of a Dylan. Sure, Kris Kristofferson can rip headlines out the paper and craft a brilliant song like "In the News" and Thrice can sing about the countless unwanted and uncared for children in "Image of the Invisible", but neither of those two wield a flaming sword like Dylan did in his heyday. Which brings me to my next question: Where have the troubadors of discontent gone?
It would almost be safe to say the last song that even made a statement that resonated with that intensity is "We Are the World." Does anybody else feel like vomiting? The last song that gripped a nation was the caterwauling of a bunch of self-obsessed, image conscious pop stars from the Eighties?
I have to admit that when I was seven years old I wanted to be the sequin-gloved wonder, Michael Jackson, standing next to Diana Ross. I wanted to believe that the children are our future. I demanded that people teach them well and let them lead the way. But it's easy to be impressed when one is seven. It's easy to buy a single and be happy that five cents of my purchase goes to help feed a starving child in Africa. What is not easy is to question the affairs of a country and wonder why we, the population of that country, allow our leaders to make such bad fucking decisions.
Why were the Dixie Chicks the first mega-popular group to question our leaders? Vomitus en cavitas oris. They were also subsequently doused by the douchebaggery of their demographic but in the long run they profited. Music sales up the ass. A movie release. Cash registers went wild gobbling the funds of the people wondering "What is that crazy Natalie Maines going to say next?"
We need a new Dylan. A new Guthrie. But it has to somebody who has the appeal of Elvis Presley and the political weight of Kennedy. We don't need a savior. There are a number of unsung, everyday heroes who try to save this world everyday. What we need is somebody who can use first-rate dance skills and some fresh beats to create change.
I have it. I know who this person is that can swerve the popular attention to affairs that can change the state of a nation. Well--he can at least shift the focus onto important matters. He would be the government's worst fucking nightmare. Imagine Justin Timberlake asking our leaders "Why are you fucking the world?"
Now that would bring sexy back.
I should be sleeping right now but I'm too busy picking at my wounds from falling down a mountain a couple of weeks ago. Yah--a fucking mountain. It was either take my chances rolling down the White Tanks or become lunch for a rattlesnake. Actually, the snake probably wouldn't have bitten me, but it sure as hell scared the fuck out of me.
Good thing: no broken bones plus I finished the rest of the six miles I had left.
Bad thing: rash all over my arms and legs plus my uniform looked like a bloody, blue tampon for the first week because the scabs kept cracking.
Bonus: met some girl who was also on the mountain with her friends. They came over when I was in the parking lot bandaging up my arms and legs. She's a youngin'. Nineteen. She's also super fucking cute. I haven't called her. Nineteen is VERY young in my book. What in the fuck am I talking about? Twenty-One is very young in my book.
Never thought I'd say it but I'm getting old.
Miss you all. You know who you are.
Good thing: no broken bones plus I finished the rest of the six miles I had left.
Bad thing: rash all over my arms and legs plus my uniform looked like a bloody, blue tampon for the first week because the scabs kept cracking.
Bonus: met some girl who was also on the mountain with her friends. They came over when I was in the parking lot bandaging up my arms and legs. She's a youngin'. Nineteen. She's also super fucking cute. I haven't called her. Nineteen is VERY young in my book. What in the fuck am I talking about? Twenty-One is very young in my book.
Never thought I'd say it but I'm getting old.
Miss you all. You know who you are.
Holy shit! It's been a month since I last updated. Feels like it's only been a couple of weeks. I guess doing nothing but going to work, the gym, back to work, then going to sleep will seriously fuck up an internal clock.
Speaking of internal clocks, I have fifteen minutes to fall the fuck to sleep if I want to catch a full eight hours as I had planned. I guess I'm only gonna catch seven--or six--or five knowing how hard a time I have falling asleep.
Met a really cool girl the other day. Her name is Star. Star is not her given name I'm sure. She's Korean (as in born in Korea) so I'm sure she uses Star because it's way fucking easier for Americans to pronounce and she got tired of everybody fucking up her name.
Her parents own a sushi bar near where I live. I went there last week because I was hungry and didn't feel like having quinoa and chicken breast again--for the 85th day in a fucking row. I'd never been there before even though it's only like a half-mile from my apt. I walk in and see this cutie, she takes my order, we start talking, I finish my meal, we continue talking, I give her my number, she calls yesterday. It turns out that it's much easier to converse with her when I can also use hand signals.
I don't think anything is going to come from this but it's nice to talk to a girl that's not married and be flirtatious. Speaking of the married girl, she's still fucking awesome. We don't talk nearly as much as we used to but with the difference in our schedules and the fact that we agreed to just be friends and not take this any further kind of puts a limit on when we can talk and what we can talk about. I talk about her ass: she reminds she's married. She talks about wanting me to hold her: I remind her she's married. It's a vicious fucking cycle.
Started flirting with another girl from my work. She works in the Fire Investigations side of things, which is unassailably cool. She has a sweet ass too. When I say sweet ass, I'm talking about a toned, defined, perfectly round bottom. I guess those lunges I see her doing all the time are working just fine. I met her a long time ago during a city employee's meeting. Had not seen her in six months. Then I run into her at the Ops Gym. Now I see her all the time. We just talk and the such but so far she's pretty cool though a little awkward in the flirting department. I can tell she hasn't had many relationships and from her demeanor she probably doesn't get out much. Or maybe it's all a ruse and she's an S&M queen on her weekends. Who knows. I can tell that she definitely has a wild side. I'd just like to find out how wild it is.
One more year. That's how long I think I'm gonna be doing the operations side of things. Actually a little over a year. I figure I should be in the field around January of 2009. That's if everything goes as planned. Then it's back to square one. Back to being the new guy again. Oh, well. It'll be nice to be on the other side doing the hands-on shit as opposed to doing more of the tactical work. Plus the schedule kicks ass. One day on, two days off. Can't beat that with a wet noodle.
Well, I'm going to try and fall asleep--again. Night all.
Speaking of internal clocks, I have fifteen minutes to fall the fuck to sleep if I want to catch a full eight hours as I had planned. I guess I'm only gonna catch seven--or six--or five knowing how hard a time I have falling asleep.
Met a really cool girl the other day. Her name is Star. Star is not her given name I'm sure. She's Korean (as in born in Korea) so I'm sure she uses Star because it's way fucking easier for Americans to pronounce and she got tired of everybody fucking up her name.
Her parents own a sushi bar near where I live. I went there last week because I was hungry and didn't feel like having quinoa and chicken breast again--for the 85th day in a fucking row. I'd never been there before even though it's only like a half-mile from my apt. I walk in and see this cutie, she takes my order, we start talking, I finish my meal, we continue talking, I give her my number, she calls yesterday. It turns out that it's much easier to converse with her when I can also use hand signals.
I don't think anything is going to come from this but it's nice to talk to a girl that's not married and be flirtatious. Speaking of the married girl, she's still fucking awesome. We don't talk nearly as much as we used to but with the difference in our schedules and the fact that we agreed to just be friends and not take this any further kind of puts a limit on when we can talk and what we can talk about. I talk about her ass: she reminds she's married. She talks about wanting me to hold her: I remind her she's married. It's a vicious fucking cycle.
Started flirting with another girl from my work. She works in the Fire Investigations side of things, which is unassailably cool. She has a sweet ass too. When I say sweet ass, I'm talking about a toned, defined, perfectly round bottom. I guess those lunges I see her doing all the time are working just fine. I met her a long time ago during a city employee's meeting. Had not seen her in six months. Then I run into her at the Ops Gym. Now I see her all the time. We just talk and the such but so far she's pretty cool though a little awkward in the flirting department. I can tell she hasn't had many relationships and from her demeanor she probably doesn't get out much. Or maybe it's all a ruse and she's an S&M queen on her weekends. Who knows. I can tell that she definitely has a wild side. I'd just like to find out how wild it is.
One more year. That's how long I think I'm gonna be doing the operations side of things. Actually a little over a year. I figure I should be in the field around January of 2009. That's if everything goes as planned. Then it's back to square one. Back to being the new guy again. Oh, well. It'll be nice to be on the other side doing the hands-on shit as opposed to doing more of the tactical work. Plus the schedule kicks ass. One day on, two days off. Can't beat that with a wet noodle.
Well, I'm going to try and fall asleep--again. Night all.
I need a vacation. I'm taking a little five-day one next week so that's good. I'll in the LBC on Tuesday making some music and hanging out with my partner-in-musical-crimes, JG, so that'll be good. I've got some material that I need to lay down while i still remember how it goes. I write all my songs down but I never fully get to learn and explore them because, as of late, as soon as I'm done with one song I move on the next. I've just been on a songwriting and journal (paper journal, no lazy blogging) kick. I've just been on such a high that I have to write it down while I'm in this mindset.
Besides working a lot, I've been hitting the gym lately. I've become addicted to working out recently. Well, "addicted" compared to how much I was hitting the gym (thirty half-assed minutes, three times a week.) Now I try and make it five days a week. I go once before I head into work for a good hour to an hour-and-a-half and then I do another 45 minutes while at work on my lunch. I've lost twenty pounds and I feel phenomenal. I passed the Phoenix CPAT--but just barely. I was so beat after I went through it that it kind of kicked my ass into getting serious again.
I know what has brought on my newfound creativity and motivation. I'm in love. She's awesome. Just the funniest, most caring creature I've met. She's wonderful. When she smiles two little dimples appear, just under the corners of her mouth, and they fucking kill me everytime. She's gorgeous. Nice, smooth, sweet-smelling skin that is just so miraculous. She is tall (well, taller than I am by an inch) and she has the most amazing, toned, lengthy legs (and a perfectly-shaped, tight, nice ass!) I love to watch her walk. She's so sultry and fluid when she moves. She doesn't think so, but I have to beg to differ on that account.
Her face is ravishing. When I first saw her I was smitten by her features. The way her hair frames her face is just perfect. She doesn't even do her hair for the most part. When it's not pulled back into a ponytail she just lets it down so that it flows down her cheeks and carresses her shoulders and it brings her features into focus so brilliantly and soflty that I can't help but be knocked out by her everytime I see her. Her eyes are a wonderful blue. Two shiny pools of glimmering love. It's as if somebody or entity or deity or what-have-you grabbed a million perfect, blue, shimmering snowflakes and made her eyes. They are so clear and moving that I can gaze into them all day and not tire of it. If the eyes are a window to the soul, I want to be her soulmate. They lock me down every time.
She's not only physically gorgeous (beyond belief), but inside, she's one of the best people that I have ever met. She's so funny (she makes me laugh! God, how long I've been waiting for that), caring, warm, loving--just all-around awesome. She was also recently hired on to become a firefighter. She wants to do the job because she genuinely cares about her world. It's a rarity to find, in the industry that we're in, somebody who wants nothing more to do the job just so they can make a difference. It's totally endearing and sexy.
She likes me when I'm at my most laid-back and not in Party Mode. When we talk and hang out she shows real affection towards me. I'm her focus when it's just the two of us talking. She compliments me on who i am and looks past my often-times crazy demeanor. She puts me at ease and that's something I've been missing for a long time. i don't feel like I have to goad her into having fun or having a good time. She just does and that's makes things easier on me. I have to give me over-the-top energy to her. We just share the same wavelength and ride it out smoothly. No airbags are needed, no seatbelts or restraints are needed because the ride has no crashes or bumps. We just meld together and have a fun time.
So, what's the rub? There's always a rub and, unfortunately, this time is no exception. The one obstacle: she's married. Yes--fucking married. Goddamn my luck. How does this happen? How did I become so enamoured with this gem when she is married? I have three Cardinal Rules when it comes to relationships and they've served me fairly well so far. They keep me out of trouble and they serve to steer me clear of the reefs that infest these waters. They are:
1) No married women- I've been cheated on before and it sucked. I never wish to put anybody through that pain so i choose to stay clear of the jagged-edged reefs that will ultimatelly sink my battleship.
2) No women with children- i love kids. I have so much fun watching them take amazement at the happenings in the world that, as adults, we fail to gaze at in wonder. Kids just kick ass. They kick so much ass, in fact, that I steer clear of the MILFs out there. I don't want to have explain to some kid why I won't be around anymore. Why we can't read together anymore. Why I can't take them to the zoo or the science center anymore or the movies anymore. That's just rough on a kid and i don't want to enter some child's life only to have to exit again. I know it would be hard for me to just give up on a kid that I love and I would probably try to keep the relationship going just so I don't have to hurt the little bastard.
3) No friends of my sisters or sisters of my friends- Self-explanatory, I hope. I don't want to make my sisters or my friends angry so I just keep away from that scene. Even if things go well, it would just weird to hang out with my buddy during the day while knowing that later that night I'm going to have his sister propped up on my couch while I'm eating her like an apple. It would also be strange to hang out with my sisters and their friends because we all know what goes on when my sisters leave and it's just the two of us. As a side note, I'd fucking despise having to hang out with the guy who kisses my sister. If he kissed her or grabbed her ass in front of me, fucking trouble. I wasn't comfortable with the boyfriend of one of my sisters showing affection towards her in front of me--until they got married that is. Now I'm just happy for them.
Well, that brings me to my predicament. I'm fully-involved, head-over-heels, many-hyphenated-decriptions in love with her. She's made me a much happier and healthier person just by being her friend. She's says I make her happier than other person knows. We have such an ethereal, multi-hued rainbow of a relationship that if she were not married, she would shortly be engaged, Yes, it's that serious.
I've met her husband and he seems like a nice guy. She says that for the most part he treats her well. Still, she says he's not the person she married. They're newly married (since January) and she says that she has been told about the first-year wedding problems that she is experiencing. But, she wasn't expecting him to be so cold once they became joined. She says he has always been reserved in his displays of affection but she wasn't ready for him to just shut her out emotionally. I can't see how he can do that! She's so loving and she shows her love to him but he's just stone-armed.
We had dinner (the three of us plus others from work, which is where I met her) and the whole time he was edging away from her. He didn't hug her once or hold her hand. She went to give him a kiss and he gave her the corner of his mouth. Like he was too bothered to kiss her. He acted like she was annoyance instead of his wife, the woman he pledged to love forever. I was angered by this. I didn't show it and I was trying my best to make talk with him and make him more comfortable around our group (we're all pretty tight because we go through so much shit together) but he never softened. I know he didn't want to come out with us in the first place and she had to talk him into going with us but the way he was towards her in front of us is just sad. She told me later that he tried to argue with her for bringing him into that situation because he had told her he didn't want to go and that should have been the end of it. What a fucking thing to say to the person that he's supposed to love. All she wanted was for us to meet the man married. She wanted to show him off to her coworkers and he just has to ruin it for her.
It's not the fact that he didn't care about meeting us that pissed me off. It's the way he treated her. She's a wonderful person and he treated her like some unwanted pest. She's the ant bite on his ankle and he did his best to ignore her. I can't see why anybody would do that. If he didn't want to be there, then that's fine. I can understand that. We've all been in that sort situation before. But to be so openly unhappy with the event and to take it out on her, it's just fucking wrong. She doesn't deserve that kind of treatment when all that she did was try and show off her pride--her lover--her husband.
There's been a few other instances when she has called me just so can cry and have somebody there that could comfort her when the person who is supposed to be her Champion and her Comforter has acted like a fucktard. I would be with her and show her how love feels if I could, but I can't.
She totally adores me as well. That's the even bigger kicker. She has this totally soft, sweet smelling blanket that she would cover up in sometimes at work (it's freezing in that building) and I used to rub her arms and shoulders through it. I love how soft that blanket is. I told her it smelled like her and I wish I had one just like it so I could always feel warm when her scent was around. So, she bought me one. She washed it in her laundry detergent and sprayed it with her perfume so I could wrap myself inside it and feel like I was with her. Then she took my bottle of cologne that I keep in my gym bag and she sprayed it on her blanket. She said that it wasn't fair that I get to feel like she's with me I put that blanket around me when she couldn't experience the same.
She's torn between her vows and her heart. I wouldn't want to be in her spot. That has to be some rough shit to go through. I'm just dealing with my heart and my values and wanting to cast those ideas aside and follow my heart. I can't imagine what she is going through. I don't want to imagine it. I'm sure I'm not helping it any by being in love with her and showing her displays of affection when that's what she wants. It's all she wants. She just wants to feel like she's loved and the one person who could make her life grand with simple signs of love and affection is failing in that regard.
We almost showed the other full-on displays of love a couple of weeks ago. We had gone out to a place called The Dubliner to give her a small going-away type of party (she was starting with her department in a couple of weeks as a "Red Shirt."--basically a fire department gopher) and watch some friends of mine play. So the small group of us were at the bar. We were having a good time just talking and laughing and listening to my friends onstage bring the music. Well, I was then brought up to play guitar on "Yellow" by Coldplay (yes, I know that song--fuck off) while my friend sang her pretty, little ass off.. After that song was over my friend put me on the spot and told me to play a solo number. I wasn't ready for it but I brought out a new song that I had been working on. It's a song I wrote about this phenomenal lady I love. She knew it as well because I let her read it. When she read it she was blown away that somebody could write about her in the way I did. Still, she hadn't seen me play guitar or heard the melody of this song so I decided to play it.
I'm singing and playing like any other time but I feel so nervous because I didn't want to fuck up. Any other song I would mangle it's HER SONG! I'm basically singing to one person in this bar. Halfway through the song I look at her and her eyes are filled with tears and she is singing along. She remembered a good deal of the words even though I had showed them to her only once before. When I saw her eyes, rimmed with tears, I had to stop playing for a second. I was overcome and had to take a breath. After that it was only her and I in this bar. Nothing else. We connected. We stared into the other's eyes and just melted together.
I finish the song and then I just walk outside. I had to get away from the many people who, just moments prior to the end of the song, weren't there. I had to step away just so that I could breathe. A few seconds after I went outside she came through the door. She blinked when she saw me and the tears that had been balancing on the rims of her eyes cascaded down her cheeks. She held me in the warmest, most loving hug I have ever experienced. It was sublime. We pull our head away from the other's shoulder and when we caught gazes everything blended away and we inched our lips closer.
Then we stopped. I could feel her breath escape her mouth and it washed over my face. We could feel the heat coming from the other's lips. We were ready to explore and taste the other person and share our love. But, we stopped. We didn't have to say anything. I buried my face in the space where her collarbone and neck meet and I just lost it. I cried. She was crying and I could feel her tears dropping on to my head. We couldn't go any further. If we did there wouldn't be any turning back and we both knew it. The one thing that could make us both happy and we gave it up because we know that to express ourselves this way isn't right. She's married and as much I would love her to be single, she's not. As much as she wants to be with me she knows she can't. Not now.
She was just kind of giggled it off and continued to hold the eachother. We go back inside and sit down and just enjoy our group's company. We made sure that we were both dry-eyed before we went inside so as not to add kindling to the rumour fire with the people we work with (everybody kept asking us if anything was going on between us--no, we're just friends) Everybody files out of The Dub in various states of inebriation and we wish safe rides home to other's in our group. Everybody starts driving away and pretty soon it's just us. We get into her car and we talk. We bare our souls and get everything out. We hold on to the other person and just let words escape our mouths. Words about the other person and about our feelings. We don't speak about what is going to happen next, we just express our feelings about eachother.
The parking lot is now almost totally empty except for the two of us and the employee's cars. We had been in her car for the better part of an hour and decided it was time to part company. We stood outside her car and hugged for what seemed like an eternity. Still, an eternity is too short when I'm with her. I get home and I layed in my bed and I just cried. i couldn't help it. I was at the point where I had almost cried myself to sleep when my phone rang. It was her. She hadn't even gone inside her house yet because she couldn't stop crying. The last thing she needs to do is crawl in bed with tears being shed because of this situation. Besides, her husband would have probably started prying and that would have been too much for her, she said.
I'm not bitter about this predicament. In fact, I'm glad that it came on. I've never felt better. I feel total love for another person and it's the greatest feeling ever. Even if it's not panning out like i want it to, the warmth and love I get from her is just too powerful. I am happy that she is a friend and that we are going about this right way. She's a wonderful friend.
So, this brings us pretty much up-to-date. Lot's of work, little sleep, and a situation that is totally unexpected. Vacation can't come soon enough.
Besides working a lot, I've been hitting the gym lately. I've become addicted to working out recently. Well, "addicted" compared to how much I was hitting the gym (thirty half-assed minutes, three times a week.) Now I try and make it five days a week. I go once before I head into work for a good hour to an hour-and-a-half and then I do another 45 minutes while at work on my lunch. I've lost twenty pounds and I feel phenomenal. I passed the Phoenix CPAT--but just barely. I was so beat after I went through it that it kind of kicked my ass into getting serious again.
I know what has brought on my newfound creativity and motivation. I'm in love. She's awesome. Just the funniest, most caring creature I've met. She's wonderful. When she smiles two little dimples appear, just under the corners of her mouth, and they fucking kill me everytime. She's gorgeous. Nice, smooth, sweet-smelling skin that is just so miraculous. She is tall (well, taller than I am by an inch) and she has the most amazing, toned, lengthy legs (and a perfectly-shaped, tight, nice ass!) I love to watch her walk. She's so sultry and fluid when she moves. She doesn't think so, but I have to beg to differ on that account.
Her face is ravishing. When I first saw her I was smitten by her features. The way her hair frames her face is just perfect. She doesn't even do her hair for the most part. When it's not pulled back into a ponytail she just lets it down so that it flows down her cheeks and carresses her shoulders and it brings her features into focus so brilliantly and soflty that I can't help but be knocked out by her everytime I see her. Her eyes are a wonderful blue. Two shiny pools of glimmering love. It's as if somebody or entity or deity or what-have-you grabbed a million perfect, blue, shimmering snowflakes and made her eyes. They are so clear and moving that I can gaze into them all day and not tire of it. If the eyes are a window to the soul, I want to be her soulmate. They lock me down every time.
She's not only physically gorgeous (beyond belief), but inside, she's one of the best people that I have ever met. She's so funny (she makes me laugh! God, how long I've been waiting for that), caring, warm, loving--just all-around awesome. She was also recently hired on to become a firefighter. She wants to do the job because she genuinely cares about her world. It's a rarity to find, in the industry that we're in, somebody who wants nothing more to do the job just so they can make a difference. It's totally endearing and sexy.
She likes me when I'm at my most laid-back and not in Party Mode. When we talk and hang out she shows real affection towards me. I'm her focus when it's just the two of us talking. She compliments me on who i am and looks past my often-times crazy demeanor. She puts me at ease and that's something I've been missing for a long time. i don't feel like I have to goad her into having fun or having a good time. She just does and that's makes things easier on me. I have to give me over-the-top energy to her. We just share the same wavelength and ride it out smoothly. No airbags are needed, no seatbelts or restraints are needed because the ride has no crashes or bumps. We just meld together and have a fun time.
So, what's the rub? There's always a rub and, unfortunately, this time is no exception. The one obstacle: she's married. Yes--fucking married. Goddamn my luck. How does this happen? How did I become so enamoured with this gem when she is married? I have three Cardinal Rules when it comes to relationships and they've served me fairly well so far. They keep me out of trouble and they serve to steer me clear of the reefs that infest these waters. They are:
1) No married women- I've been cheated on before and it sucked. I never wish to put anybody through that pain so i choose to stay clear of the jagged-edged reefs that will ultimatelly sink my battleship.
2) No women with children- i love kids. I have so much fun watching them take amazement at the happenings in the world that, as adults, we fail to gaze at in wonder. Kids just kick ass. They kick so much ass, in fact, that I steer clear of the MILFs out there. I don't want to have explain to some kid why I won't be around anymore. Why we can't read together anymore. Why I can't take them to the zoo or the science center anymore or the movies anymore. That's just rough on a kid and i don't want to enter some child's life only to have to exit again. I know it would be hard for me to just give up on a kid that I love and I would probably try to keep the relationship going just so I don't have to hurt the little bastard.
3) No friends of my sisters or sisters of my friends- Self-explanatory, I hope. I don't want to make my sisters or my friends angry so I just keep away from that scene. Even if things go well, it would just weird to hang out with my buddy during the day while knowing that later that night I'm going to have his sister propped up on my couch while I'm eating her like an apple. It would also be strange to hang out with my sisters and their friends because we all know what goes on when my sisters leave and it's just the two of us. As a side note, I'd fucking despise having to hang out with the guy who kisses my sister. If he kissed her or grabbed her ass in front of me, fucking trouble. I wasn't comfortable with the boyfriend of one of my sisters showing affection towards her in front of me--until they got married that is. Now I'm just happy for them.
Well, that brings me to my predicament. I'm fully-involved, head-over-heels, many-hyphenated-decriptions in love with her. She's made me a much happier and healthier person just by being her friend. She's says I make her happier than other person knows. We have such an ethereal, multi-hued rainbow of a relationship that if she were not married, she would shortly be engaged, Yes, it's that serious.
I've met her husband and he seems like a nice guy. She says that for the most part he treats her well. Still, she says he's not the person she married. They're newly married (since January) and she says that she has been told about the first-year wedding problems that she is experiencing. But, she wasn't expecting him to be so cold once they became joined. She says he has always been reserved in his displays of affection but she wasn't ready for him to just shut her out emotionally. I can't see how he can do that! She's so loving and she shows her love to him but he's just stone-armed.
We had dinner (the three of us plus others from work, which is where I met her) and the whole time he was edging away from her. He didn't hug her once or hold her hand. She went to give him a kiss and he gave her the corner of his mouth. Like he was too bothered to kiss her. He acted like she was annoyance instead of his wife, the woman he pledged to love forever. I was angered by this. I didn't show it and I was trying my best to make talk with him and make him more comfortable around our group (we're all pretty tight because we go through so much shit together) but he never softened. I know he didn't want to come out with us in the first place and she had to talk him into going with us but the way he was towards her in front of us is just sad. She told me later that he tried to argue with her for bringing him into that situation because he had told her he didn't want to go and that should have been the end of it. What a fucking thing to say to the person that he's supposed to love. All she wanted was for us to meet the man married. She wanted to show him off to her coworkers and he just has to ruin it for her.
It's not the fact that he didn't care about meeting us that pissed me off. It's the way he treated her. She's a wonderful person and he treated her like some unwanted pest. She's the ant bite on his ankle and he did his best to ignore her. I can't see why anybody would do that. If he didn't want to be there, then that's fine. I can understand that. We've all been in that sort situation before. But to be so openly unhappy with the event and to take it out on her, it's just fucking wrong. She doesn't deserve that kind of treatment when all that she did was try and show off her pride--her lover--her husband.
There's been a few other instances when she has called me just so can cry and have somebody there that could comfort her when the person who is supposed to be her Champion and her Comforter has acted like a fucktard. I would be with her and show her how love feels if I could, but I can't.
She totally adores me as well. That's the even bigger kicker. She has this totally soft, sweet smelling blanket that she would cover up in sometimes at work (it's freezing in that building) and I used to rub her arms and shoulders through it. I love how soft that blanket is. I told her it smelled like her and I wish I had one just like it so I could always feel warm when her scent was around. So, she bought me one. She washed it in her laundry detergent and sprayed it with her perfume so I could wrap myself inside it and feel like I was with her. Then she took my bottle of cologne that I keep in my gym bag and she sprayed it on her blanket. She said that it wasn't fair that I get to feel like she's with me I put that blanket around me when she couldn't experience the same.
She's torn between her vows and her heart. I wouldn't want to be in her spot. That has to be some rough shit to go through. I'm just dealing with my heart and my values and wanting to cast those ideas aside and follow my heart. I can't imagine what she is going through. I don't want to imagine it. I'm sure I'm not helping it any by being in love with her and showing her displays of affection when that's what she wants. It's all she wants. She just wants to feel like she's loved and the one person who could make her life grand with simple signs of love and affection is failing in that regard.
We almost showed the other full-on displays of love a couple of weeks ago. We had gone out to a place called The Dubliner to give her a small going-away type of party (she was starting with her department in a couple of weeks as a "Red Shirt."--basically a fire department gopher) and watch some friends of mine play. So the small group of us were at the bar. We were having a good time just talking and laughing and listening to my friends onstage bring the music. Well, I was then brought up to play guitar on "Yellow" by Coldplay (yes, I know that song--fuck off) while my friend sang her pretty, little ass off.. After that song was over my friend put me on the spot and told me to play a solo number. I wasn't ready for it but I brought out a new song that I had been working on. It's a song I wrote about this phenomenal lady I love. She knew it as well because I let her read it. When she read it she was blown away that somebody could write about her in the way I did. Still, she hadn't seen me play guitar or heard the melody of this song so I decided to play it.
I'm singing and playing like any other time but I feel so nervous because I didn't want to fuck up. Any other song I would mangle it's HER SONG! I'm basically singing to one person in this bar. Halfway through the song I look at her and her eyes are filled with tears and she is singing along. She remembered a good deal of the words even though I had showed them to her only once before. When I saw her eyes, rimmed with tears, I had to stop playing for a second. I was overcome and had to take a breath. After that it was only her and I in this bar. Nothing else. We connected. We stared into the other's eyes and just melted together.
I finish the song and then I just walk outside. I had to get away from the many people who, just moments prior to the end of the song, weren't there. I had to step away just so that I could breathe. A few seconds after I went outside she came through the door. She blinked when she saw me and the tears that had been balancing on the rims of her eyes cascaded down her cheeks. She held me in the warmest, most loving hug I have ever experienced. It was sublime. We pull our head away from the other's shoulder and when we caught gazes everything blended away and we inched our lips closer.
Then we stopped. I could feel her breath escape her mouth and it washed over my face. We could feel the heat coming from the other's lips. We were ready to explore and taste the other person and share our love. But, we stopped. We didn't have to say anything. I buried my face in the space where her collarbone and neck meet and I just lost it. I cried. She was crying and I could feel her tears dropping on to my head. We couldn't go any further. If we did there wouldn't be any turning back and we both knew it. The one thing that could make us both happy and we gave it up because we know that to express ourselves this way isn't right. She's married and as much I would love her to be single, she's not. As much as she wants to be with me she knows she can't. Not now.
She was just kind of giggled it off and continued to hold the eachother. We go back inside and sit down and just enjoy our group's company. We made sure that we were both dry-eyed before we went inside so as not to add kindling to the rumour fire with the people we work with (everybody kept asking us if anything was going on between us--no, we're just friends) Everybody files out of The Dub in various states of inebriation and we wish safe rides home to other's in our group. Everybody starts driving away and pretty soon it's just us. We get into her car and we talk. We bare our souls and get everything out. We hold on to the other person and just let words escape our mouths. Words about the other person and about our feelings. We don't speak about what is going to happen next, we just express our feelings about eachother.
The parking lot is now almost totally empty except for the two of us and the employee's cars. We had been in her car for the better part of an hour and decided it was time to part company. We stood outside her car and hugged for what seemed like an eternity. Still, an eternity is too short when I'm with her. I get home and I layed in my bed and I just cried. i couldn't help it. I was at the point where I had almost cried myself to sleep when my phone rang. It was her. She hadn't even gone inside her house yet because she couldn't stop crying. The last thing she needs to do is crawl in bed with tears being shed because of this situation. Besides, her husband would have probably started prying and that would have been too much for her, she said.
I'm not bitter about this predicament. In fact, I'm glad that it came on. I've never felt better. I feel total love for another person and it's the greatest feeling ever. Even if it's not panning out like i want it to, the warmth and love I get from her is just too powerful. I am happy that she is a friend and that we are going about this right way. She's a wonderful friend.
So, this brings us pretty much up-to-date. Lot's of work, little sleep, and a situation that is totally unexpected. Vacation can't come soon enough.
I can trace a map to heaven across her body
Connecting points I love
Creating a constellation of the one who stops my breath
For fear that an exhale would blow her farther away
Connecting points I love
Creating a constellation of the one who stops my breath
For fear that an exhale would blow her farther away
A little over month ago two friends of mine were married in Vegas. That setting totally matches their wedding and them to a tee. The Little White Wedding Chapel was the scene of their union. The air-conditioning unit at the chapel was on the fritz (or so they claimed, it was working quite nice in their office) so the ceremony was a testimony to the cooling properties of a handkerchief, a fan, and ice-water. The groom wore green, silk pajamas and the groomsmen (myself included) wore black pants (I opted for Dickies), a black t-shirt and a hat of some sort (I chose a black, straw cowboy hat.) The bride wanted the wedding dress (she looked gorgeous, just beautiful) and the bridesmaids were in spectacular, red numbers. The girls were visions draped in their habiliments of the occasion.
The most memorable part of the trip (minus the actual ceremony and reception, of course) were the trips up there and back. Nothing is better than a road-trip with three of the closest friends in one's life. We ate at a Chili's in Surprise, AZ. I ended up getting sloshed at the restaurant (I guess four Beam-and-Cokes plus two Grey Goose Dirty Martinis with three olives will do that.) I hadn't had any sleep because I was coming off a twelve-hour shift. I was blasted.
We loaded into the car and headed to Vegas. I passed out for a couple of hours until we came to a gas station where we stocked up on libations to satisfy our thirst for the potions that would aid in the tomfoolery that would ensue on the trip. The guy at the station offered to sell me some marijuana. I had to decline but I'm sure he didn't mind. The gas station seemed to be chock-full of waiting customers.
Up until now I didn't pay much mind to the music (probably due to the fact that I was out cold) but at this leg of the journey i was up and ready to rock. We were listening to quite a bit of good, old-fashioned punk music. AFI, Authority Zero, and various other three-chords-and-the-truth bands were spun. None of them played all the way through. It was a mix-and-match of good music. As soon as one sing-along was over the record was switched and another choir of discontent was started in it's place. It was fun. Very, very fun.
Everybody balked at Slayer, Converge, Refused, and Pantera. They were having none of it. So I decided to unleash the country and roots music. I had brought quite a selection of Americana and country influenced artists and was determined to listen to them during our trip, even if it was by myself while passing out in the hotel room. Everybody dug Johnny Cash, of course. Patsy was a hit as was the new Kris Kristofferson album, This Old Road. The Old Crow Medicine Show took a while for them to warm up to. It was turned off twice in a row before I demanded that we listen to at least one song all the way through. After they heard "Tell It to Me" they were open to listening to the OCMS a bit more. I put on Eleni Mandell but they complained it was just too soft and mellow for the trip. I tried some Wilco but all I had was Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and that is an album best absorbed by oneself and a bottle of wine. Ryan Adams was kept on for a minute. Everybody loves his version of "Wonderwall" and this was no exception. But, as it delved into some of his other tracks, he too was cast aside.
I was about to tell them to go back to the rock until I decided to try once more and I handed Sweetheart of the Rodeo by The Byrds to the person in charge of the stereo. First off, everybody didn't want to hear "Mr. Tambourine Man." I assured them that this was a departure from that great song. Next I got the "If we're gonna listen to sixty's music can we listen to Beatles instead?" question. Yes, I had some Beatles with me but I told them to just give it a listen. Then came the "What's next? Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young?" query. I said if the wanted to we could listen to CSNY (I didn't have a CSNY album on me but I had to call their bluff.) Once The Byrds kicked into "You Ain't Going Nowhere" they were fixed into this music. They were hooked.
The album was a revelation for them. I had brought down the third tablet from Mount Sinai and on it was written "Thou shalt listen to Sweetheart of the Rodeo." We ended up listening to this record for a good majority of the trip back Plus we replayed a few tunes over-and-over. "Hickory Wind", "Lazy Days", "The Chiristian Life", and "You Don't Miss Your Water" were in heavy rotation.
It's not hard (from my humble point-of-view, of course) to see why they loved this collection of great songs. Sweetheart of the Rodeo is one of the records that has changed my life, literally. Along with Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables by The Dead Kennedys, London Calling by The Clash, Downward is Heavenward by Hum, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band by the Beatles, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys (plus a slew of others that would take too much time to mention) Sweetheart of the Rodeo is one of those albums that changed my life, literally. It is one of those tributaries that has entered my soul and completely rewired my tastes. The album is so full of pain, heartache, redemption, murder, La Luz de Jesus, El Diablo, love, warmth, and above all, hope. The music, of course, kicks ass but it's just a wind for the poetry to glide on. Though many of the songs were not The Byrds own ditties to begin with, they made them theirs. They took their influences (well, Gram Parsons' influences, for the most part) and forged their own sonically strong gift to humanity. I seriously love the fact that I ran across it and gave it a chance. I put in the time and effort to absorb this classic and I have reaped the benefits a million times over.
There is quite a bit of music that molded me into the adult I have become. I became interested in world issues because of Rage Against the Machine, Public Enemy, The Dead Kennedys, and Marvin Gaye, to name a few. The first time I heard "By the Time I Get to Arizona" by Public Enemy I remember thinking about the fact that at the time AZ was one of the only states without a Civil Rights Day and it was barely acknowledged in our school system. In fact, even the texts we used were very short when it came to this very important part of American history.
"Moon Over Marin" by The Dead Kennedys brought forth a sense of ecological preservation as did "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" by Marvin Gaye. Listening to Jello Biafra warble on about the 1969 Santa Barbara Coast oil spill or hearing Marvin Gaye pose the question "Where did all the blue skies go?" instilled a sense of ecological importance. I just can't comprehend how much of a negative impact we've had on our planet. Our home. Of course, I can always be comforted by the great George Carlin waxing about how "The planet will be here for a long, long, long time after we're gone, and it will heal itself, it will cleanse itself, 'cause that's what it does. It's a self-correcting system."
I've always had a soft spot (an overly tender, vulnerable soft spot) for the loving side of life. This is attributed to my parent's divorce when I was nine. I was at an age where I was most malleable and this single event bended me into the infatuated fool I am at present. It also sharpened my grasp of the "love song."
I found love while "Black" by Pearl Jam was playing. Actually, I lost my virginity while that song was coming through the tiny, four inch speakers of my, at the time, girlfriend's boombox. That song is a large part of my sexual awakening. That song can issue forth and I am brought back twelve years and many miles to a point where I was discovering the many affairs of the heart. "Black" is just one soldier in an army of songs that have the ability to recall that sense of loving (or lusting depending on the situation) that emptys many a young man's wallet in the oftentimes fruitless search for companionship, no matter be it a long-term relationship or a one-night engagement.
Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale" is another creation that never ceases to enthrall me. It rivets my heart in place and forces me to conjure false images of skipping a light fandango and turning cartwheels across the floor. When Matthew Fisher, the lead singer of Procol Harum, launches into the chorus I find it hard not to proclaim "AND SO IT WAAAAAAAAAS" while trying (and ultimately failing) to match his sincerity in the deliverance of this simple line. My favorite part of the song is Fisher's Hammond organ. The lines that stream from the Hammond touch--no--grab my heartstrings and tug away, guiding me through the emotions hidden in this gem, as if I'm a simple marionette. I gladly give leave for this to happen.
This expounding of my obsession with music was brought on by the passing of a gentleman today. I didn't know know him. I just happened to speak to his spouse after he suffered and, unfortunately, succumbed to a fall in his home. She told me of her love of him without even meaning to. They were together for 61 years, he fought in three wars (I correctly guessed World War II, the Korean War, and Vietnam), and he had a habit of falling down. Speaking to her was a blessing. Our brief conversation shows me that it's tales like their's that offer gleams of hope in a dreary society. It is dreams of lives like their's that provide the one of the major backdrops for the art musicians provide. I've witnessed the joining of two people and experienced the breaking apart of two others in a short amount of time. Both occurances have impacted me. I wish her the best of luck.
As a side note, while speaking to her I could hear "The Very Old Man" by Hum playing ever so slightly, somewhere in the background...
The most memorable part of the trip (minus the actual ceremony and reception, of course) were the trips up there and back. Nothing is better than a road-trip with three of the closest friends in one's life. We ate at a Chili's in Surprise, AZ. I ended up getting sloshed at the restaurant (I guess four Beam-and-Cokes plus two Grey Goose Dirty Martinis with three olives will do that.) I hadn't had any sleep because I was coming off a twelve-hour shift. I was blasted.
We loaded into the car and headed to Vegas. I passed out for a couple of hours until we came to a gas station where we stocked up on libations to satisfy our thirst for the potions that would aid in the tomfoolery that would ensue on the trip. The guy at the station offered to sell me some marijuana. I had to decline but I'm sure he didn't mind. The gas station seemed to be chock-full of waiting customers.
Up until now I didn't pay much mind to the music (probably due to the fact that I was out cold) but at this leg of the journey i was up and ready to rock. We were listening to quite a bit of good, old-fashioned punk music. AFI, Authority Zero, and various other three-chords-and-the-truth bands were spun. None of them played all the way through. It was a mix-and-match of good music. As soon as one sing-along was over the record was switched and another choir of discontent was started in it's place. It was fun. Very, very fun.
Everybody balked at Slayer, Converge, Refused, and Pantera. They were having none of it. So I decided to unleash the country and roots music. I had brought quite a selection of Americana and country influenced artists and was determined to listen to them during our trip, even if it was by myself while passing out in the hotel room. Everybody dug Johnny Cash, of course. Patsy was a hit as was the new Kris Kristofferson album, This Old Road. The Old Crow Medicine Show took a while for them to warm up to. It was turned off twice in a row before I demanded that we listen to at least one song all the way through. After they heard "Tell It to Me" they were open to listening to the OCMS a bit more. I put on Eleni Mandell but they complained it was just too soft and mellow for the trip. I tried some Wilco but all I had was Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and that is an album best absorbed by oneself and a bottle of wine. Ryan Adams was kept on for a minute. Everybody loves his version of "Wonderwall" and this was no exception. But, as it delved into some of his other tracks, he too was cast aside.
I was about to tell them to go back to the rock until I decided to try once more and I handed Sweetheart of the Rodeo by The Byrds to the person in charge of the stereo. First off, everybody didn't want to hear "Mr. Tambourine Man." I assured them that this was a departure from that great song. Next I got the "If we're gonna listen to sixty's music can we listen to Beatles instead?" question. Yes, I had some Beatles with me but I told them to just give it a listen. Then came the "What's next? Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young?" query. I said if the wanted to we could listen to CSNY (I didn't have a CSNY album on me but I had to call their bluff.) Once The Byrds kicked into "You Ain't Going Nowhere" they were fixed into this music. They were hooked.
The album was a revelation for them. I had brought down the third tablet from Mount Sinai and on it was written "Thou shalt listen to Sweetheart of the Rodeo." We ended up listening to this record for a good majority of the trip back Plus we replayed a few tunes over-and-over. "Hickory Wind", "Lazy Days", "The Chiristian Life", and "You Don't Miss Your Water" were in heavy rotation.
It's not hard (from my humble point-of-view, of course) to see why they loved this collection of great songs. Sweetheart of the Rodeo is one of the records that has changed my life, literally. Along with Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables by The Dead Kennedys, London Calling by The Clash, Downward is Heavenward by Hum, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band by the Beatles, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys (plus a slew of others that would take too much time to mention) Sweetheart of the Rodeo is one of those albums that changed my life, literally. It is one of those tributaries that has entered my soul and completely rewired my tastes. The album is so full of pain, heartache, redemption, murder, La Luz de Jesus, El Diablo, love, warmth, and above all, hope. The music, of course, kicks ass but it's just a wind for the poetry to glide on. Though many of the songs were not The Byrds own ditties to begin with, they made them theirs. They took their influences (well, Gram Parsons' influences, for the most part) and forged their own sonically strong gift to humanity. I seriously love the fact that I ran across it and gave it a chance. I put in the time and effort to absorb this classic and I have reaped the benefits a million times over.
There is quite a bit of music that molded me into the adult I have become. I became interested in world issues because of Rage Against the Machine, Public Enemy, The Dead Kennedys, and Marvin Gaye, to name a few. The first time I heard "By the Time I Get to Arizona" by Public Enemy I remember thinking about the fact that at the time AZ was one of the only states without a Civil Rights Day and it was barely acknowledged in our school system. In fact, even the texts we used were very short when it came to this very important part of American history.
"Moon Over Marin" by The Dead Kennedys brought forth a sense of ecological preservation as did "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)" by Marvin Gaye. Listening to Jello Biafra warble on about the 1969 Santa Barbara Coast oil spill or hearing Marvin Gaye pose the question "Where did all the blue skies go?" instilled a sense of ecological importance. I just can't comprehend how much of a negative impact we've had on our planet. Our home. Of course, I can always be comforted by the great George Carlin waxing about how "The planet will be here for a long, long, long time after we're gone, and it will heal itself, it will cleanse itself, 'cause that's what it does. It's a self-correcting system."
I've always had a soft spot (an overly tender, vulnerable soft spot) for the loving side of life. This is attributed to my parent's divorce when I was nine. I was at an age where I was most malleable and this single event bended me into the infatuated fool I am at present. It also sharpened my grasp of the "love song."
I found love while "Black" by Pearl Jam was playing. Actually, I lost my virginity while that song was coming through the tiny, four inch speakers of my, at the time, girlfriend's boombox. That song is a large part of my sexual awakening. That song can issue forth and I am brought back twelve years and many miles to a point where I was discovering the many affairs of the heart. "Black" is just one soldier in an army of songs that have the ability to recall that sense of loving (or lusting depending on the situation) that emptys many a young man's wallet in the oftentimes fruitless search for companionship, no matter be it a long-term relationship or a one-night engagement.
Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale" is another creation that never ceases to enthrall me. It rivets my heart in place and forces me to conjure false images of skipping a light fandango and turning cartwheels across the floor. When Matthew Fisher, the lead singer of Procol Harum, launches into the chorus I find it hard not to proclaim "AND SO IT WAAAAAAAAAS" while trying (and ultimately failing) to match his sincerity in the deliverance of this simple line. My favorite part of the song is Fisher's Hammond organ. The lines that stream from the Hammond touch--no--grab my heartstrings and tug away, guiding me through the emotions hidden in this gem, as if I'm a simple marionette. I gladly give leave for this to happen.
This expounding of my obsession with music was brought on by the passing of a gentleman today. I didn't know know him. I just happened to speak to his spouse after he suffered and, unfortunately, succumbed to a fall in his home. She told me of her love of him without even meaning to. They were together for 61 years, he fought in three wars (I correctly guessed World War II, the Korean War, and Vietnam), and he had a habit of falling down. Speaking to her was a blessing. Our brief conversation shows me that it's tales like their's that offer gleams of hope in a dreary society. It is dreams of lives like their's that provide the one of the major backdrops for the art musicians provide. I've witnessed the joining of two people and experienced the breaking apart of two others in a short amount of time. Both occurances have impacted me. I wish her the best of luck.
As a side note, while speaking to her I could hear "The Very Old Man" by Hum playing ever so slightly, somewhere in the background...
OCTOBER 2009
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SEPTEMBER 2009
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AUGUST 2009
JULY 2009
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